


Smokesignals

by Amatia (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M, Magic, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-15
Updated: 2010-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Amatia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is nothing more than parallels sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smokesignals

"Harry," she called softly out into the yard, standing just inside the door so the wind wouldn't catch her, "why are you burning our schoolbooks?"

Harry turned from the fire. One hand shaded his eyes from the smoke, the other clutched Hermione's copy of Standard Book of Spells, Vol.4. He looked at her for awhile, staring as if he was trying to formulate an answer.

"Harry?" she asked again, taking two steps out into the chill. A soft orange leaf from the maple tree next to the house blew into her hair.

"Go back inside, it's cold," he replied, and tossed the book into the flames.

Hermione's voice was sharper this time, as stinging and acrid as the smoke that whipped around them. "What are you doing, burning things like this?"

He didn't answer; she went back inside the house. It smelled of cinnamon - she'd been attempting to bake, pregnancy so far left her feeling slightly domestic and she had wanted to encourage that. The result sat on the counter: a cake that had collapsed midway through the cookbook's suggested baking time.

Perhaps it was the oven with problems. Hermione waved her wand at the cake and it rose perfectly. She rolled her eyes at it and went into the sitting room just as the door to the backyard banged open. "Hermione?" Harry called.

"I'm in by the fireplace."

"I see you baked," he said, coming around the corner.

"I tried. Have you finished your little fire experiment?"

"I have reasons; I just haven't found them yet."

Hermione said dryly, "That's very encouraging, Harry," and picked up the book she was reading from the center table. "I thought perhaps this was a Halloween ritual I'd never heard of before -"

"As if that exists."

"- and then I thought that you'd just finally gone crazy." She opened the book and attempted to ignore him even as he sat down next to her on the sofa. He was warm and smelled of smoke and apple-wood; they were good scents on Harry and Hermione just couldn't be mad at a man who kissed her neck like that and smelled nice besides.

They'd been in this house for six months now without leaving and without seeing anyone besides each other. Harry barely let her out of his sight once she'd realized she was pregnant but she couldn't have gone anywhere even if she'd wanted to. There were three things today that Hermione refused to think about: First, how the bloody hell she was going to have a baby out here in the middle of nowhere without anyone but Harry to help. Second, how quickly she would tell any Death Eater that caught her where Harry was as long as they left the baby alone; and third, that the alternative to worrying about the birth was knowing that she wouldn't have to worry about the birth if all three of them were dead.

Harry kissed her neck again and she sighed. "I miss everyone."

"Mm-hmm."

"You're trying to distract me from your little burn pile out there, aren't you?"

"Mm-hmm." Another kiss.

"It won't work." But it was, and Hermione was really just content to sit on the couch all evening and ask about the books in the morning. "It's Halloween," she reminded him gently.

"I took care of it already."

"Honestly?" She'd had to remind him for a whole week leading up to the Equinox to change the wards last time.

Harry looked at her with a mixture of patience and amusement on his face. "Yes. Do you want to know what I was doing out there with the fire?"

She gave him a Look, and he laughed. "I'll show you."

He got up off the couch and kneeled by the fireplace. Holding out his hands, he murmured a spell. A wisp of smoke curled lazily out of the flames and into his palms. He cupped his hands around it, raised it to his lips, and whispered between his fingers. Then he let go.

The smoke drifted over to Hermione and spiraled next to her ear. "I love you," it hummed in Harry's voice, and then dissolved as she gasped. "You were sending messages!" she nearly shouted at Harry.

"Since I can't use owls..." he shrugged and stood up. "They vanish immediately if someone other than the intended recipient tries to catch them, reform later somewhere else until they get to where they're going."

"But why did you need to burn my copy of Transfiguration For Beginners to make them?"

"Our schoolbooks had magic in them. There was no way for me to get the wood you're supposed to burn to create the smoke-messages that can travel a long distance, so I had to improvise."

Sometimes he shocked her with how smart he really was. "You could have told me," she murmured, pulling Harry back down beside her. "I promise I wouldn't have been upset. Who'd you send messages to?"

"Ron, of course." Ron was their Secret-Keeper, hiding out somewhere on the Continent. It pained Hermione not to be able to see him; she knew it hurt Harry too even if he tried to hide it. He'd tried so hard to talk Ron out of it, protesting that he could find someone else, but Ron had been insistent. "Don't make the same mistake your parents did," he'd said to Harry. "Don't find someone who won't be true just because you want me around."

"And who else?"

"Molly and Arthur - they'll tell the other Weasleys what's safe to be told - and Remus."

Remus was Ron's Secret-Keeper, an extra measure of protection that Molly Weasley had demanded on having for her son's sake as much as Harry's. "I do think Remus will be pleased," Hermione said into Harry's shoulder, "but Molly will be worried sick."

"That's Molly's nature," Harry replied, chuckling. He pulled the blanket out from behind him and tucked it around them. Hermione settled more comfortably against him and watched the fire. His fingers drifted up and down her arm.

"So what did you say to Ron?" she asked after awhile.

"That I missed him. That we missed him. To have a Happy Halloween. That you're having a baby."

"We're having a baby," Hermione corrected him.

"That we're having a baby. That I hoped he wasn't too lonely. And that I missed him."

"You said that already."

"Well, it's not as if it's not true," Harry said, sighing, and kissed the side of her head. "I should go make sure the fire's out." He kissed her again and left.

Hermione pulled the blanket tighter and opened her book again. The cake was probably completely cool by now; she should put it in the icebox but it wasn't even time for dinner and she'd rather read.

The back door banged again. "Harry, put the cake in the icebox," she called. "We'll have it for dessert, is that all right with you?"

There was no answer. She set the book down and got up. "Harry?"

He was still out in the yard; the door had blown open. Hermione leaned against the door frame and rubbed a hand over her belly. "I think the latch is bad on this door," she called out to Harry as he thrust a metal rake through the pile of ashes.

"You don't know a fixing spell?"

"It worked all right earlier." She fingered the latch and frowned. "I would have sworn it was fine yesterday," she said under her breath.

"Maybe the wind caused it to come loose," Harry replied from next to her. He'd come up while all of her attention was focused on the door. "That would have had to be some strong wind," he continued, "but that storm last night was pretty bad."

"What storm?"

"You slept through it."

"I slept through a very loud storm?"

"You did. You were out cold." Harry smiled. "I should know, I laid awake and watched you."

Hermione felt her cheeks turn red. "Come on inside; I'll make us some dinner." Harry followed her in, his hand bumping against hers in a purposeful rhythm until she nudged him with her shoulder. "How about we save that for after dinner?" she asked dryly.

"But then the table will be covered in dishes," he deadpanned, and she nearly doubled over from laughing. "Hey," he caught her wrists, "a few more months and you won't even want me within six feet of you, you'll be so uncomfortable."

He was treading too close to her list of Things Not To Think About Today. "After dinner," she promised with a kiss, and Harry hauled her closer than she'd been anticipating. "I think the smoke went to your head," she said breathlessly.

"I am in a perfectly healthy frame of mind." He ran a hand down over her hip.

"The smoke went to your head," Hermione replied firmly, but kissed him. "Let's have some dinner, all right? I'm starving."

Harry let go of her with a sigh of reluctance. Then something creaked behind them, and they both whirled around, Hermione a bit slower. "There's not someone in here, is there?" Harry asked.

"No, why would there be? And I didn't see anyone."

"You said the latch was bad."

"Yes, but I didn't hear footsteps or anything. And besides, it's the back door and you were out there, you'd have seen someone come in." She laid a hand on his cheek. "You're just being paranoid, Harry. It's an old house, it creaks."

He didn't look completely convinced. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Hermione threaded her fingers through his, their palms pressing together. "Today of all days, my love, I think we can spare a few hours to feel safe here."

The wind swirled around the house; the crinkle and rustle of the forest was audible even through the walls. "How hard do you believe in magic?" Harry whispered.

"What kind?"

"Any of it. All of it." She always had to ask for the specifics, and he was speaking of something that couldn't be narrowed down. "The kind of magic you believed in when you were little."

"I never stopped believing in it," Hermione replied. "Not that I would admit it to anyone but you and Ron," she said in a quieter voice.

Harry nodded. "Good. Don't ever stop believing in that."

She frowned. "What happens if I do?"

"The house comes down around our ears."

Hermione looked into his eyes for a long time, squeezing his hands. She could still smell the fire on him. Outside the wind howled like a phantom; she could imagine it catching the ashes and dancing, thick and wild with the dying leaves.


End file.
